Lightning's Daughter

16

Day followed day and league after endless league fell behind the small patty of riders as they pushed south on the trail of the gorthling. They traveled as fast as possible, for they were desperate to catch the creature before it reached the gathering. They pushed themselves and their horses hard and stopped to rest only when necessary. To increase their speed, they dumped most of their gear, using the pack horses as spare mounts.

Gabria worried at first that Tam or the Hunnuli colt would wear down under the rigors of the rough travel—the journey had already been a long, hard one for everyone. To her relief, the Reidhar girl and the colt managed very well. Tam stayed close to Sayyed, riding with him and keeping him company in the evenings. She still had not said a word, but she smiled more and pampered Sayyed with her constant attention. The Turic, for his part, was pleased to have her friendship and treated her with the humor and affection of a protective big brother.

As for the Hunnuli colt, the months of travel had strengthened him as no time in a pasture could have. He was as big as a Harachan yearling, well developed and feisty. He remained inseparable from Tam.

Five days passed, and the travelers gained very little on the gorthling. Secen estimated they were still about a day behind him. Although he was moving very fast, he still made no attempt to hide his tracks. He seemed to be deliberately luring the hunters after him.

On the fifth day the company passed close to Dangari Treld, so Athlone sent one of his warriors to check on the camp. The Dangari had grown sedentary over the years and left many of their people at home during the gathering. They bred and trained superb horses and usually took their breeding stallions and brood mares to cooler pastures in the mountains for the summer. Athlone prayed the gorthling had not found any of the Dangari.

To his relief, the warrior returned with some gifts of food and greetings from the Dangari in the treld. They were unharmed and had seen no sign of Branth. Lord Koshyn and the main body of the clan had left many days before and were probably already at the gathering.

The travelers rode on beside the Isin River as quickly as they dared go. They managed to draw a little closer to the gorthling until he was perhaps only half a day ahead, but he remained infuriatingly out of reach. The pursuers did not dare force their Harachan horses any harder for fear of killing them and losing all hope of catching the gorthling in time.

The long, hard days of riding were frustrating to Gabria. She spent the endless hours studying the death mask of Valorian and trying to think of ways to destroy the gorthling. Unfortunately the mask gave her no answers, and her knowledge and experience were so limited that she had very little idea of what she might have to face when she finally confronted the creature.

The only two things of which she was certain was that she had to fight the creature and that she would do it alone. Athlone and Sayyed had not brought up the subject of sorcery again since that night, and Gabria did not care to remind them. Nevertheless, she knew the two men well enough to realize they had not put aside their eagerness to use their powers. At any other time she would have been overjoyed to help them and would have done anything she could to learn more and teach all her companions, including Tam. But not now. Not so they could face a gorthling.

If only she knew how to convince them of the deadly folly of their desire to help. She sensed they had not given up their wish to learn. Athlone and Sayyed were spending an unusual amount of time talking together out of her hearing. For two men who barely spoke to each other only a month ago, they had suddenly become very friendly. Gabria did not know what they were up to, but it only increased her determination to slip away at the best opportunity and confront the gorthling herself.

If she was going to succeed in leaving the men, she knew she would have to plan her departure just right. She was not a good tracker and she did not want to risk losing Branth’s trail. It was possible that he could detour from the Isin and not go to the gathering at all. Therefore, she wanted to stay with the men until they were close enough to the gorthling for her to find him, yet far enough away so the men could not easily catch up with her. Nara was not going to like the idea, but Gabria trusted the Hunnuli mare to help her.

The woman sat on Nara’s broad back and forced herself to be patient. The waiting was difficult. It gave her imagination ample opportunity to run wild—an exhausting luxury she could ill afford. They were still many leagues behind the gorthling and had a long way to go. She clenched her jaw. It was time to find the gorthling and finish the ordeal. Branth was not going to slip away from her again.

As the gorthling and its pursuers headed south, the eleven clans of Valorian were making their way across the grasslands to the Tir Samod. For as many years as the clanspeople had inhabited the Ramtharin Plains, the clans had gathered together each summer at the junction of the Isin and the Goldrine rivers to renew their ties and worship their gods as one.

The gathering gave the chieftains the opportunity to meet in council and establish the laws that governed the clans. Through their efforts, they carried on the traditions handed down from their fathers, maintained clan unity, and enhanced their own authority.

While the chiefs met in council, their people were also strengthening clan unity. The gathering gave everyone a chance to renew old acquaintances, visit family members in other clans, strike up new friendships, and arrange betrothals. It also gave the clanspeople an excellent outlet for competition and entertainment.

One of the most popular attractions of the gathering was the huge bazaar and livestock market that sprang up even before the last clan arrived. Merchants and traders from the Five Kingdoms and the Turic tribes came early and set up booths to trade with the enthusiastic clanspeople. Along with the foreign merchants, the clan artisans added their own specialties to the market, so the people had a wide and richly varied supply of goods from which to choose. They loved to trade and batter, and they pitched into the haggling with great delight.

The days of a gathering were usually wild, noisy, and exciting. This year, however, the people were restrained. Too much had happened at the gathering the summer before for the clans to reunite peacefully. Clan had fought against clan in a bloody war that was still fresh in people’s memories.

With that danger in mind, Lord Koshyn of the Dangari and Lord Sha Umar of the Jehanan made certain that their people arrived at the gathering first. The two lords, the Khulinin’s oldest allies, made it a point to welcome every arriving clan and chieftain as if all the troubles of the past year had been forgotten. Their attitude spilled over onto their people and helped soothe the barely suppressed anger many still harbored. Unfortunately, they could not make the clans forget everything.

When the remnants of Lord Medb’s old clan, the Wylfling, came on the fourth day, the whole gathering nearly shattered in rage and old grief. Only the Wylfling’s new chieftain, Lord Hildor, held his clan together and forced them to stand their ground before the anger of the other clans. His courage and the timely arrival of the Khulinin helped defuse a potential tragedy. The Khulinin wer-tain, Guthlac, remembered his orders from Athlone and had the entire Khulinin clan come forward to greet and embrace the Wylfling. Gradually the heated emotions cooled down, and the clans warily got down to the business of the gathering.

The chiefs then discovered another real problem: Lord Athlone was missing. The Khulinin chieftain had not been seen or heard from since he had left Reidhar Treld almost two months before. The Khulinin reported that he was going to Pra Desh with Lady Gabria to find Branth, but they did not know when he was coming back.

The chieftains were alarmed. They did not want to start the serious proceedings of the council without him, yet they could not wait all summer for him to appear. Lord Sha Umar finally suggested postponing the council for at least five more days and offered to send scouts out along the clan trails to try to find Athlone.

The other chiefs readily agreed, and Lord Koshyn and Wer-tain Guthlac sent their scouts out as well. While the chiefs settled back to wait for some word of Athlone, speculation ran rampant through the camps about his disappearance. Rumors spread like flies. Some people whispered that Gabria’s sorcery had destroyed him, while others thought perhaps Branth had killed him. No one knew what to believe.

On the evening of the fifth day, there was still no sign of Lord Athlone or his party, and the clans were growing tired of waiting.

Lord Koshyn tried to curb his own impatience during the day, without much success. Immediately after his evening meal, he retrieved a flask of redberry wine he had left cooling in the river and walked downstream along the bank to the camp of Clan Jehanan. He found Lord Sha Umar relaxing on a rug under the awning of his tent. The chieftain’s maroon banner flapped idly overhead. The Jehanan leader welcomed the young Dangari gladly, and they sat down to enjoy the cool wine.

For a while they rested in companionable silence, watching the evening activities of the clan. The women were cooking over campfires while the children tumbled in the dirt with the dogs. Some warriors lolled in the shade of the trees. A piper was playing nearby, making his music light and capricious to match the fitful wind that blew through the camp, swirling the dust and tugging at the tents.

Koshyn suddenly sat upright. “That man is a nuisance!” he said in annoyance.

Sha Umar followed his friend’s gaze and saw Thalar, the Khulinin clan priest of Surgart, talking vehemently to a crowd of onlookers at the Bahedin camp just across the river. The priest had been using his time to preach against sorcery to all the clans. He knew, as well as everyone else, that the chieftains were going to discuss magic during their council and debate on the possibility of altering their laws. Thalar took full advantage of his lord’s absence to try to influence the other chiefs and their people against sorcery.

“He has certainly been making his opinions known,” Sha Umar replied dryly.

Koshyn looked away, his blue eyes vivid with anger. “And too many people are listening to him. If Athlone doesn’t get here soon, he may find the entire gathering ready to exile Gabria and turn against sorcery forever.”

Koshyn had fought beside Athlone at Ab-Chakan and was his close friend. He liked the young woman, Gabria, too. He recognized the truth of her arguments to reinstate sorcery in the clans and did everything he could to forward her cause. The fact that his friend Athlone had the talent to wield magic only increased his determination to rescind the law that forbade the use of sorcery on pain of death.

“We can’t put the council off much longer,” Sha Umar said, his tanned face lined with worry.

“What do we do if he does not come at all?”

The Jehanan chief scratched his beard. “If he and Gabria both disappear, the people will think the problem of sorcery will simply vanish.”

“No, it won’t,” the Dangari said vehemently. “Too much has happened for everyone to forget.” He gestured to the teeming camps along both rivers. “Somewhere out there are other magic-wielders who know of their talents and are afraid, or those who will learn of their powers by accident and will be killed or exiled. Those people are not freaks. There is a reason some clanspeople can wield magic. We can’t keep turning our backs on that power.”

Sha Umar’s mouth widened into a grin, and he held up his hand. “All right! You don’t need to convince me.” He passed the wine flask to Koshyn. “We should push to change the laws whether Athlone is there or not.”

“Absolutely. We don’t need another tragedy like the one Medb brought down upon us.”

“Agreed.”

Koshyn leaned back on a cushion and stared out beyond the camps to the far hills darkening in the purple of twilight. “I just wish I knew where Athlone was.”

“And Lady Gabria. Without her, our task will be much harder,” said Sha Umar.

“They must have run into trouble.”

The Jehanan chief snorted. “Probably Branth. That fool has been nothing but trouble. I wonder where he is.”

“Dead, I hope,” the Dangari said honestly.

Sha Umar raised his cup to that hope.

At that moment, in the low hills at the edge of the river valley, the subject of the chieftains’ annoyance was lying on a flat rock and looking out over the busy gathering. Branth’s eyes glowed red with satisfaction and anticipation. The gorthling had not known the clans were so numerous, but that did not bother him. To the contrary, he was delighted. The clanspeople he had found days before had told him there was only one sorceress left on the plains. He had realized then that she must be the hated magic-wielder in the memory of his host body. All he had to do was destroy her and an entire population would be his to do with as he pleased.

The gorthling laughed to himself. There were such fascinating possibilities for revenge against the people who had been so harsh to Lord Branth. With his arcane powers, he could destroy these people one by one, slaughter them all at once or, better yet, enslave them and keep them for his own use.

He studied the gathering carefully. The sorceress was supposed to be at this place, but it was quite large and he did not know exactly where to look for her. The individual clans were camped on their traditional sites along the banks of both rivers. The huge market was on the east side of the Goldrine River, and to the south of the camps was the wide, flat stretch of the valley used for racing and competitions. On the point of land between the two rivers was an open tent crowned by the colorful banners of the ten chieftains present at the gathering.

The holy island of the Tir Samod and the temple stood empty in the middle of the confluence of the two rivers. There was nothing anywhere to indicate the presence of a magic-wielder.

The gorthling finally shrugged. The light was fading, making it difficult to see. Besides, at this distance he could not distinguish one woman from another in those busy camps. He moved back into the shelter of a rocky outcropping and settled down to wait for daylight. He would simply go down to the gathering in the morning, when the clanspeople were the most active, and find the sorceress. Even in those sprawling camps, she could not escape him for long.

A few hours later that same night, Athlone brought Eurus to a halt in the shelter of a small copse of trees beside the river.

The two Hunnuli were still fresh and willing to go on, but the Harachan horses stumbled to a grateful halt and stood drooping under their saddles. Their riders were just as exhausted. The Hunnuli colt pressed close to his mother, and Treader flopped on the ground and panted. Although they were only half a day’s ride from the gathering and everyone wanted to keep going, even Gabria knew they had to stop and rest.

Wordlessly the travelers dismounted, robbed down their horses, and hobbled them to graze. No one lit a fire. The men dug into their packs for some nuts and dried meat, and they ate a cold meal. Before long, Tam and the men were wrapped in their blankets and sound asleep under the watchful guard of the Hunnuli. Only Gabria remained awake.

The time had come to leave. Athlone had hoped the gorthling would wait a while before starting trouble with the clanspeople—at least long enough for the weary horses and riders to catch up with him. Gabria did not want to give the gorthling a chance to be loose among the clans. She wanted to stop him immediately.

She lay in her blankets for a time to let her body rest. Staring at the stars, she listened to the subdued sounds of the sleepers around her. She was thankful for the nervous, queasy feeling in her stomach and the cold clamminess of her hands, for without those to keep her awake, it would have been very easy to fall asleep in the warm summer night.

Just after moonrise, she slipped out of her blankets, tied the golden mask in its bag to her belt, and went to Nara. The three Hunnuli gathered around her in the darkness and listened as she told them what she was going to do.

Nara’s reaction was immediate. Gabria! You can’t fight that monster alone. It is too strong for you!

The sorceress reached out and laid her hand on the Hunnuli’s neck. “I have to try. Are you coming with me?” As she had suspected, the mare could not refuse. Nara would never betray her rider or let her go into such danger alone.

Gabria turned to Eurus. “Please, do not wake Athlone. Let me go alone or he will follow me and die at the gorthling’s hands.”

You do not know that, the young stallion replied.

“I know enough to not take a chance. Please, Eurus.”

The Hunnuli bowed his head. I will do as you ask.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully. Then she turned to the colt. “Don’t worry, little one, your mother will be safe.” Gabria sprang to Nara’s back and pinned her cloak tightly around her shoulders. For just a moment, she looked back at the sleeping forms under the trees.

While the woman was occupied with her own thoughts, Nara turned to Eurus and sent her message only to him. We cannot stop her. She is too determined for her own good sometimes.

What do we do? the stallion asked.

My son can wake the men in a short time. That will allow you to keep your word to Gabria. Bring them as fast as you can. She will not be able to avoid them if they join her at the gathering.

Eurus tossed his head, and his nostrils flared.

Nara turned to her colt. I must give you a mighty task, my son. Are you willing to try?

Yes, Mamma!

You are strong enough to carry the girl. After you have awakened the men, take 'Bun toward the mountains and seek the King Hunnuli. The two of you together can call him. Ask him to come. The sorceress needs his help.

The colt nickered softly in reply, his broom tail whisking in excitement.

Unaware of the Hunnuli’s thoughts, Gabria bid farewell to Eurus and the colt. Like a shadow, Nara moved out of the trees and turned south toward the Tir Samod. As soon as she was out of earshot from the camp, she broke into her smooth canter, and she and Gabria vanished into the darkness.

Athlone stirred in his blankets. A strange feeling of alarm disturbed his exhausted sleep, and he tossed and turned. Something was not right; he could sense it even in his sleep, something was missing. He was on the verge of waking when something warm and soft nudged his face. Athlone bolted upright with a yell, grabbed his sword, and came nose to nose with the Hunnuli colt.

Gabria is gone, the young horse told him.

Athlone was on his feet and yelling for Eurus before the other men awakened and realized what was happening.

“Where is she?” the chief demanded when the stallion came to his side.

She left to find the gorthling alone.

“Why didn’t you stop her?”

The other men were climbing to their feet, looking confused. “What is it, Lord Athlone?” Sayyed asked. He looked around. “Where is Gabria?”

Athlone snarled, “She’s left without us. I’m going after her.” He sprang to Eurus’s back.

Before the Hunnuli could move, Sayyed ran in front of the big horse. “Not without us, you’re not.”

“Get out of the way!” the chief yelled. “I’ve got to get to her before she attacks that beast alone.”

“I’m going with you!”

“Your horse can’t keep up with a Hunnuli.”

“He can try! You cannot go alone,” Sayyed insisted.

Piers stepped forward, his demeanor calm. “Athlone, he’s right. You and Gabria will need him. Take him on Eurus, and the warriors and I will follow.”

Athlone looked down at the old healer, and something in his friend’s quiet, reasonable voice calmed his wild impulse. Some of his father’s cool, deliberate cunning surfaced in the chief’s mind, and he nodded. “All right, Sayyed. You ride with me.”

The Turic whooped with relief and went to collect his weapons and burnoose.

As the Turic and the chief were about to leave, the three hearthguard warriors stepped up to Eurus. They were not happy about being left behind, even though they understood the reasons. Nevertheless, they looked up at Athlone and gravely saluted. There was a short pause as they glanced at one another, then Keth said, “Be careful, Lord. The clans need you back.”

Athlone said nothing. His hand tightened on Eurus’s mane in expectation.

Secen, his strong, plain face clear in the moonlight, said quietly, “We were afraid at first when you told us that you were going to wield magic. But Lady Gabria’s mask reminded us that Lord Valorian had once been a chieftain and a sorcerer. If his people could accept that, so can we.”

“We’ll support you before the clans, too,” Valar added.

Lord Athlone raised his fist and returned his warriors’ salute. He was proud of his men and vastly relieved for himself. Their acceptance would give him strength in the days of controversy ahead—provided, of course, that he survived until then. “Come as fast as you can,” he ordered.

With Sayyed behind him on Eurus’s back, Athlone yelled the Khulinin war cry and urged the Hunnuli into a canter. The two men and the stallion were gone from sight in the blink of an eye.

During that moment of departure, no one noticed that Tam quietly slipped onto the colt’s back, and she, the colt, and Treader trotted away into the night.